Songs for Ill-fated Lovers

During the period from the mid-to-late 1990s, I wrote some lyrics to songs that I imagined might be done in a rockabilly style, and that they could all fall under the heading of “Songs for Ill-fated Lovers” for an album. This was all for fun, of course.

This first one was what got me thinking about that….

Ride My Dinosaur

I’m walkin’ under ladders, honey,
I’m spillin’ salt.
I’m breakin’ every mirror for ya,
and it’s all your fault.
I let you rock my cradle, baby,
in the tree tops.
You know I’m fallin’ like London Bridge…
and Humpty Dumpty when he drops –

Come ride my dinosaur, darlin’.We’ll see what we can see.I got a tower in Pisa for ya.You got the key.

Come ride my dinosaur, darlin’.We’ll see what we can see.I got a tower in Pisa for ya.You got the key.

I got us tickets on the Titanic, honey.
You won’t want to leave.
I’ll take you flyin’ on the Hindenburg.
My fortune, you won’t believe.
We’ll get a place on 3 Mile Island.
It’s a beautiful scene.
We can capture it all on BETA, baby.
Do ya know what I mean?

Come ride my dinosaur, darlin’.We’ll see what we can see.I got a tower in Pisa for ya.You got the key.

—

Waffle House Woman

She wears too much makeup –
and she’s got really big hair.
I don’t want to break up
over dirty silverware.
I say…
Do it over easy;
I like it real hot.
I know its kinda sleazy;
I like you a lot.
Clear off all this clutter;
bring a spoon and a cup.
I’ll need lots of butter
to butter you up.
Waffle House Woman,
Please come back.
Waffle House Woman,
would you take it back?

She’s got a ring for every finger
and she’s got the reddest lips.
I want her to linger
but she’s livin’ off tips.
I say…
Do it over easy.
What can I say?
I’m feelin’ kinda sleazy;
I’ll have it all the way.
I’d like some sugar, honey,
sweet and low.
Ya see,
I ain’t got much money,
but I don’t want to go.
Waffle House Woman,
please come back.
Waffle House Woman,
won’t you take it back?

I wonder should I tell her
this ain’t my cup of tea?
But there’s something about her
or there is something wrong with me.
I say…
Do it over easy,
I like it well done.
I’m feelin’ kinda queasy;
I think you’re the one.
I’d like my sausage smothered
and I’m hungry for your buns.
But now its all covered,
and I think I’ve got to run.
Waffle House Woman,
please come back.
Waffle House Woman,
I’ll be right back.

—

Lucy on the Web with Icons

Picture yourself on a page on your PC
with hypertext links to Internet sites.
Someone sends email, you see the attachment,
a girl with cyberspace eyes.

Lucy on the web with icons…

Search engine hits in purple and blue,
waiting to lead you astray.
Look for the file that’s saving her picture
and it’s gone.

Lucy on the web with icons…

Follow her surfing through links to a chat room,
where online users lead virtual lives.
Everyone :-)’s as you lose your connection;
your server is busy today.

Lucy on the web with icons…

Newsgroup binaries appear in the window,
fresh from the info highway.
Mouseclick the JPEG to download her image
and you’re spammed.

Lucy on the web with icons…

—

The Less I Know

Well…
I ain’t got nothin’ but the shoes on my feet,
the clothes on my back, and the food between my teeth.
I ain’t gonna work no job nine to five;
bust my butt just tryin’ to stay alive.

Ya’ see…
The less I know, the less I got to worry.
The less I know, the less I got to do.
So you can see why I don’t have to hurry,
’cause I don’t know where I’m goin’ to.

Well…
I’m gonna stand on this corner and beg for my food.
Hopin’ some woman takes pity on me soon.
All I need is some food and a bed
and when she gets some time…
give a little head.

Ya see…
The less I know, the less I got to worry.
The less I know , the less I got to do.
So you can see why I don’t have to hurry
’cause I don’t know where I’m goin’ to.

—

She’s a Puritan

She has no cell phone, no headphones, no MTV.
No indoor plumbing, no car, no electricity.
She’s got no miniskirt, no bathing suit, no hairdo.
No microwave, no movies, no drive thru.

She has no DVD, no lap top, no birth control.
No washing machine, no jewelry, no Tylenol.
She’s got no hair dye, no lip-stick, no blush or rouge.
No push-up bra, no fishnet stockings, no high-heeled shoes.